


Family Trees

by Welcome_to_Latveria



Series: Kristoff Von Doom [3]
Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Kristoff being a mutant, Platonic Relationships, victor being a semi-decent father (he rly tries in this one im telling u)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:27:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24072943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Welcome_to_Latveria/pseuds/Welcome_to_Latveria
Summary: It's a national holiday in Latveria but of course Kristoff doesn't get a day off from dealing with his family's drama and to top it all off the Avengers have shown up too. Kristoff would just very much like to catch a break for once which is obviously why his worst nightmare has decided to play itself out in real time...
Relationships: Kristoff Vernard & Original Child Character(s), Victor von Doom & Kristoff Vernard
Series: Kristoff Von Doom [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1694635
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	Family Trees

**Author's Note:**

> Lockdown rly has me grinding huh!! Also happy VE day for everyone in Europe!! We were supposed to have 3 days of celebrations here in the UK but obviously that won't be happening :/
> 
> Translations from ROMLEX:   
> pral - brother  
> unoko - grandson   
> dad - father  
> phuro dad - grandfather

The start of a new week, and Victor Von Doom and the X-Men seem to have reached a stalemate.

Kristoff himself is back home in Latveria – the rest of the Latverian mutants following suit; Doom Island has been rendered redundant now that the Krakoan mutants have been there and know of its location.

His father seems to have a neutral opinion on the outcome of the events that unfolded. On one hand Franklin Richards’ powers have been restored and so he has had a chance to one-up Reed Richards. On the other hand, the X-Men escaped with their lives. Kristoff suspects that this was a test run anyhow – a chance for Victor to pit his Sentinels against the X-Men and see how they fared. 

What will happen next? He is unsure. Things seem to have cooled down a bit – the X-Men have not bothered retaliating, and perhaps they never will; the restoration of Franklin’s powers technically mean that they owe his father a debt, after all. Even if they wished to do so, they would struggle. His father’s intelligence suggests that the Krakoan mutants are tied up elsewhere with problems in the distribution of their mutant drugs as well as problems with other non-treaty countries. Moreover; the UN might not be too bothered about Krakoa fighting Doom on a random island, but it is likely they wouldn’t take too kindly to Krakoa making war with Doom in mainland Europe.

Kristoff and his father have forgotten about making war – for today, at least. After all, today is a national holiday for Latveria.

* * *

“Kristofer,” Boris sighs in deep resignation at his grandson. “Please, _unoko_ , wear the clothes that your _dad_ laid out for you.”

_“No.”_ Kristofer does not even look up as he makes the sign petulantly. The child is tucked up in his duvet cover – his face hidden, his hands only visible so he can sign.

Poor Boris looks at his wits end. Kristoff’s grandfather has been trying to get Kristofer to dress in his formal wear for the better half of twenty minutes.

“ _Phuro dad_ ,” he cuts in, feeling sympathy for Boris. “Why don’t you go and relax before _dad_ inevitably starts bothering us all? I’ll handle Kristofer, don’t worry.”

Boris gives him a grateful look before turning a sharp look on his brother, “You better behave for your _pral_ , Kristofer.”

The man leaves the room – Kristofer’s bedroom – and Kristoff’s brother sticks his tongue out at Boris’ back. He bites his lip to prevent his amusement from showing.

Kristofer is sulking on his bed – a bed which is entirely too large for a small child – and as a result his little brother seems lost in the duvet cover. He joins his brother on the bed, sitting on the edge of it and pulling one corner of the duvet up to reveal Kristofer curled up underneath.

“Come on, _pral_ ,” he coaxes. “What’s wrong, huh? I know it’s not the clothes.”

Kristofer ignores him, staring despondently past him to look at the wall.

“Are you nervous?” He asks. “There will be lots of people around you today and I know that can be unnerving ‘cos you haven’t really left the castle before now.”

Kristofer continues to ignore him.

He reaches out with one hand and brushes his hand across his brother’s curls – “Come on, _pral_. Tell me what’s wrong, please… I won’t tell Dad, I promise.”

Kristofer arches into Kristoff’s touch like a kitten and meets his eyes finally, considering him. He smiles reassuringly.

_“I won’t be able to speak to people,”_ Kristofer signs, breaking eye contact and looking past him again at the wall. _“They don’t speak like me.”_

Kristoff bites his lip because he has no idea how to reply to that. This is the first time his brother has expressed any negative feelings about not being able to speak verbally. It isn’t surprising – of course – that he would feel such a way, it is just that he doesn’t know how to comfort his brother in this situation. It’s not exactly like he can fix the problem. And really that stirs something burning in his stomach – the idea that he cannot fix all of Kristofer’s problems is an uncomfortable truth that he dislikes very much.

He continues to drag his fingers through Kristofer’s dark curls – “I’ll be with you the whole time, _pral_ – to translate – you don’t have to worry about being alone and no one being able to understand you.”

_“It’s not the same.”_

“I know,” he tells him quietly – because he _does_ know. He knows that translating is not the same as being able to speak freely, or even to use sign language with someone else who uses it. But it is all he has to offer. “I could find you a whiteboard, too – if you wanted. So that you could write instead of sign.”

Kristofer shakes his head, _“No. Just signing. You can translate.”_

“Okay.”

His brother looks up at him again, _“Promise you won’t leave me alone. You have to stay with me all day. If you don’t, I will tell on you.”_

He laughs, “Oh you will, will you? And what punishment would you demand from _dad_ , huh?”

_“He will make you carry me on your shoulders everywhere.”_

“Oh, that’s definitely a punishment!” He laments loudly. “My poor shoulders will be dislocated because my little brother is so very heavy!”

Kristofer slaps his arm, _“Am not!”_

“You totally are,” He says, grinning. “For me, anyways – Dad and Zora are fine ‘cos they’re both pretty strong but I’m not even an adult and I’m definitely not as strong as them.”

His brother pouts at him, _“That’s why it’s a punishment.”_

“Ah, good point.” He says. “Anyways – I promise I’ll stay with you all day… _but_ you gotta get dressed first, okay?”

Kristofer sits up properly, looking like himself for the first time – _“You have to help me. So many silly parts – it’s like a costume!”_

He laughs, “Yeah, I know what you mean – I’ll help you, don’t worry.” He pauses for a second, “And then you have to apologise to Boris – he would have helped you if you had told him what was wrong, but instead you ignored him.”

_“I was rude?”_ Kristofer frowns as if he doesn’t like this idea.

“Yeah, kinda.”

_“Then I will apologise,”_ His brother looks quite confident as he signs this whilst getting down from the bed. _“I will even let him take photos because I know he will like that!”_

Kristoff laughs – he can imagine that Boris would like that very much, seeming as there aren’t many pictures of any of the family around the castle.

_“Don’t laugh – you will be in the photos too!”_

* * *

Kristoff has barely walked into the throne room before he’s accosted by his father.

“A plane has just touched down inside the Latverian border,” Victor tells him. “Go meet it.”

He raises his eyebrows, “Do you know who’s in it, or are we just throwing me at it blindly?”

“The Avengers, unfortunately.” His father sounds displeased, but not overly so – the usual frustration that comes with dealing with the Avengers isn’t there. “They claim they are not here to make war and for once I am inclined to believe them – I suppose they are disturbed by the existence of Krakoa too.”

“Isn’t this kind of thing Zora’s job?” He really isn’t in the mood for dealing with the Avengers – potential allies or not – when he could be spending time with his brother instead which is an altogether much more worthwhile endeavour.

“Today is a holiday and Zora has earned a break, as I’m sure you would agree.”

“And I haven’t?” He mutters.

He’s sure that Victor is rolling his eyes at him, “You are the heir to the throne, you do not take breaks – besides, I have not once seen you do any work around here.”

He grins, “Same to you, father.”

“I am in a genial mood today, so I will let that pass.”

He rolls his eyes, “Of course, because normally you would beat me for such a transgression.”

“Do not make jest of such things, Kristoff.”

Victor is sensitive about comments like that from anyone. When Kristoff first arrived to live with him, his father was… he did not hit him, but he was rough – manhandled him, is perhaps the right way to say it. He had never had to deal with children before and he had no idea to handle a young boy, so he resorted to being forceful. Boris put a stop to that as soon as it began, of course, and showed Victor how to be a parent. To him, it is a distant memory – a memory that his father is not perfect and that he is human. But to Victor it must represent the worst parts of himself.

“I don’t have to stick around to _listen_ to the Avengers, right?” He checks. “I need to stay with Kristofer all day – you know what he’s like, he’d probably wander off and get lost in the woods.”

“I would never subject you to such torture,” Victor says, and makes a shooing gesture at him as if he is a cat who has just wandered onto his property and not his son who is doing him a favour.

Kristoff leaves the Castle through the back exit which is the quickest way to reach the border – he moves past domestic staff rushing about busily and students who have the day off schooling and are leaving the building and going to their families’ houses in town for the day. Everyone he passes smiles at him and he returns it – he is happy to be the more approachable one in the family.

He has to cut through the woods that surrounds the back of the Castle – the sun is out for once and it would be quite a pleasant excursion if he wasn’t about to meet the Avengers. He’s never had cause to interact with any of them (save the Scarlet Witch, though he doubts she is going to show up) before now.

Through the trees, one of the Avengers’ Quinjets is slightly visible.

He moves closer.

“I cannot believe we _flew_ all the way here,” Kristoff hears a voice say. “I could have run here in less than two minutes.”

“Yeah,” says another voice, “And then how were the rest of us supposed to get here, Pietro?”

“You’re the genius, Stark – figure it out yourself.”

As Kristoff approaches, he sees the Quinjet landed with Quicksilver leaning against it. Anthony Stark is standing slightly away from the jet, observing his surroundings with a look that suggests he rather be somewhere else, and Captain America is just climbing out of the jet to join them both on the ground.

Stark spots him first, looking him up and down with a dubious look – “Doom’s kid, right?”

“Doctor Doom has a son?” That comes from Captain America. The man sounds slightly confused more than shocked – Kristoff gets the feeling that this is probably his default reaction to most things; he is the man out of time, after all.

“Yeah, I saw him last time I was here,” Stark says, waving his hand vaguely to gesture the Castle in the distance, “He was up there, fighting – we thought he was Doom at first.”

“Yes,” Kristoff says, slightly bitter. “When you and your gang of _geniuses_ decided you were the only ones fit to decide the fate of the world, and then entered my country illegally and then had the nerve to deny it later on.”

Stark blinks in surprise, and Quicksilver lets out a laugh. Captain America looks slightly uncomfortable, “Well… let’s not dwell on the past.”

Kristoff fakes a smile, “Sure.”

Quicksilver pushes himself off the side of the Quinjet, blurring out of his vision, “So – which way to the Castle?”

Kristoff jumps because Quicksilver has reappeared behind him, nearly scaring him half to death.

“Uh… we’ll have to go around a different way than the way I came – my father will want you to enter through the front of the Castle.” Because Victor will want to be on his throne when they enter – he doesn’t mention that, of course.

“So?” Stark asks.

“So,” he says tightly, “Please try and keep to yourselves – lots of people will be out and about today, and the Avengers walking around will make them nervous.”

“Of course,” Captain America replies politely.

He nods and gestures for them to follow him as he turns on his heel and makes an arc across the woods, avoiding going back the way he came which would lead into the Castle Grounds.

Captain America and Stark seem happy to trail him and talk amongst themselves whilst he leads them through the woods and onto an actual footpath. Quicksilver keeps pace with him – though no doubt he finds Kristoff’s pace too slow.

He considers Quicksilver for a moment – Magneto’s son. It occurs to him suddenly that if anyone in the world knows what it is like to be the son of Doctor Doom, it is the son of Magneto.

“Aren’t you a mutant?” he asks the man, because this meeting is about dealing with Krakoa and as far as he’s seen, Quicksilver is the only mutant hero (minus Namor) who hasn’t joined the mutant nation.

Quicksilver looks at him conspiratorially, “Aren’t _you_?”

He blinks in surprise, “I – uh…”

“My sister told me that; you don’t need to worry about it being common knowledge,” the speedster tells him, eyeing the two Avengers behind them.

“Oh.”

A pause and then Quicksilver says, “It occurs to me that Stark didn’t tell us your name.”

“Kristoff.”

“And how old are you, Kristoff?”

He raises his eyebrows but answers anyway – “Seventeen.”

Quicksilver smiles slightly – bitterly, almost, “When I was about your age, my sister and I worked for Magneto. Not by choice; we were indebted to him because he saved our lives when a human mob attacked us, and in return for saving two mutant children – his _own_ children – he wanted to use our powers for his own cause.”

Kristoff stays silent because he is interested in the story but another part of him hopes that this is not a story that parents tell their children to illustrate how they had it worse when _they_ were children – his father is particularly fond of telling Kristoff such stories when he complains about things.

“On one such occasion,” Quicksilver continues, “Magneto had captured the capital of some obscure island – Santo Marco – and he had built a bomb because he knew the X-Men would attack sooner or later. And he was right, they did – so he activated his bomb… he was willing to kill thousands. But I… I am not a killer, so I disarmed the bomb. To punish me, he locked me in a small room – a prison cell, essentially. To you that may not sound so bad, but for me – for someone with my abilities – it is a special kind of torture.”

He frowns, “Did… did he know you were his children – at the time, I mean?”

Quicksilver shrugs, “Who knows? Perhaps – I think he definitely had some suspicions, at least, because of my resemblance to him, and Wanda’s resemblance to his wife; our mother. But even if he didn’t know, would it matter? I was still a child.”

He nods, because he understands. He imagines Victor throwing him in a cell because he refused to kill thousands of people – he shivers. His father himself would probably not hesitate to sacrifice the lives of thousands of people – if it was for something he really wanted – but he would never drag his children into something like that. 

“So that’s why you’re not on Krakoa?” he asks, “Because of Magneto?”

Quicksilver laughs, “If I wrote a list of people I would trust to lead a nation, my father would most certainly be at the tail end of it. Frankly, I would sooner trust _your_ father to do such a thing… at least he has experience.”

By now the four of them have reached the town centre and it is indeed quite busy. Latverians are out and about – talking, laughing, singing and dancing. Music can be heard playing but not from any visible source, and the Latverian flag hangs from people’s windows.

“What are you celebrating, kid?” Stark calls from behind him, looking around suspiciously as if he thinks some civilians are going to attack him out of the blue, “Some make believe holiday celebrating your dad’s ego?”

Kristoff gives him an odd look, “It’s VE day, actually.”

Captain America startles at that, “Really? I… I didn’t even realise.”

“Understandable,” he says, with a semblance of pity, “It has been 75 years since the end of the war you fought.”

_How odd it must be_ , he thinks, _to live in a world every day that you never imagined you would see._

“You’re celebrating the end of the Second World War?” Stark sounds incredulous for some reason.

Kristoff raises his eyebrows, “Is it not something worth celebrating?”

“Sure – just didn’t think _Doom_ would have thought so.”

He furrows his brow in confusion, “It is called Victory in Europe day – Latveria is in Europe. Why wouldn’t we celebrate?”

“Latveria doesn’t exactly have a reputation of being celebratory inclined.”

Kristoff scowls, “As usual you lack a fundamental understanding of my country.”

He turns away from Stark and continues forward. Although the streets are busy they have no trouble getting through – the people would move politely out of the way of Kristoff on a normal day, but today it is more of a nervous scatter when they see he is flanked by the Avengers.

When they reach the Castle gates they are met by guards. They take one look at him and let them all pass.

They enter the throne room where – predictably – his father is lording over them all on his throne.

He turns to the Avengers, “I am not staying because frankly I have better things to do. Quicksilver; it was a pleasure speaking to you. Captain America; thank you for your part in ending the war. Stark; I hope to never see you here again.”

* * *

When he sees that the Quinjet has taken off – back to America – he takes Kristofer and finds their father inside the Castle. Kristofer complains about being dragged away from the celebrations, but it was either that or be left alone so he was forced to tag along with him.

His father is in his study when they find him, and Kristofer breaks free from holding his hand to run up to him. Victor greets his youngest son distractedly, pulling him up under the arms to sit on his lap.

“How were the Avengers?” Kristoff asks him, sitting down on one of the other seats in the room.

“Disappointing, as usual.”

“What did they say about Krakoa?”

Victor sighs, “That they are concerned too but that they are ‘ _keeping an eye on the situation’_ – frankly, the Avengers are blind when it comes to potential threats, so I find no comfort in that reassurance. And even if they had pledged to oppose Krakoa – what would they bring to the table? Collectively their power is subpar – the Scarlet Witch is their only real asset and she is hardly going to agree to help me.”

Kristoff is silent for a moment. Then, “What about her brother?”

“Quicksilver? What about him?”

He pauses to think through his thoughts because he’s not sure how to explain the idea that has suddenly entered his mind. “How well do you think he would do undercover?”

“Somehow I think he would not blend in too well,” his father says, amused, “He isn’t particularly lacking in defining features.”

“No,” Kristoff says, shaking his head. “Not undercover like in the outside world, undercover on _Krakoa_.”

“ _What_?” It is not often his father is caught off guard.

“I mean,” he continues, sort of rambling. “He’s a mutant so he could use the gates – and his father is Magneto so it wouldn’t really be odd if he showed up, right? Magneto has another daughter, doesn’t he? Who’s already there? And if something ever went wrong, he could escape easily – he wouldn’t even need to use the gates – because he could just run across the ocean or whatever.”

“Xavier is a telepath,” His father reminds him. “And he’s not the only one – Jean Grey, Emma Frost and who knows how many others with the same powers.”

“But like… could they actually read his mind? I’m pretty sure I read in some file somewhere that telepaths couldn’t read speedsters’ minds – because their thoughts move too fast.”

“This idea has seized upon you suddenly, hmm?” His father asks him, sounding curious which in reality means he’s feeling _nosy_. “Pietro Maximoff made an impression on you, I take it?”

He doesn’t look at his father, instead focusing on Kristofer who is curled up in Victor’s lap and who has tugged Victor’s cloak around to cover him like a blanket.

Finally, he says: “I never really thought about Magneto’s children… he looks so much younger than he actually is that I forgot he had them, really. Wanda and Pietro Maximoff; kids of a supervillain – like me.”

“Ah,” Victor says. “So, it is solidarity you seek?”

“Sue me – I’ve never spoken to anyone with similar life experience.” It’s true, villains with kids is a niche; he and Kristofer must fill the whole quota by themselves.

“Back to this… idea,” His father says, changing the subject. “It is not without its merits, but I do not see how you would convince Quicksilver to undertake such a job – he is hardly going to take orders from me.”

Kristoff shrugs because this is an idea that has literally just come to him – he hasn’t exactly thought things through, and definitely not to the extent where his father would be satisfied. “It doesn’t have to come from you.”

“I hardly see who else it could come from,” Victor says, shifting Kristofer in his lap to sit him more comfortably. “You know Loki once disguised himself as the Scarlet Witch to get Quicksilver and the Avengers to do his bidding – it ended with Loki being tortured and relying on Thor to save him. Loki tells me that Quicksilver can outrun Thor’s lightning bolts… fascinating, truly – I used to be under the impression that superspeed was a useless ability.”

He gives his father an odd look, “Yes, father – thank you for that trivia, are you going to make me take a quiz later?”

“You are not nearly as humorous as you think you are,” His father tells him, shaking his head. “However, I am willing to consider this idea of yours if you can come back to me with a way to convince Quicksilver to work with us – and when I say us I mean truly with _us_ ; I don’t want the Avengers involved with this.”

“Of course,” He agrees genially, and then he says: “Do you ever wonder how much easier our lives would be if you’d just married the Scarlet Witch – because this is definitely one of those moments I’m thinking about it.”

* * *

The next day, and he barges into his father’s study without knocking because an idea has suddenly seized upon him, “Father, I just remembered–” He stops because his father isn’t alone “–oh, I apologize, I didn’t realise you had company.”

Victor is sitting at his desk, speaking with a… man – really he does not look like a human man, although Kristoff assumes he must be. He is dressed in a garish combination of green and purple which causes Kristoff to squint at him in confusion, “Is that… Kang the Conqueror?”

“Yes,” His father answers shortly, offering no explanation though he waves Kristoff in anyway. “Kang – my eldest son, Kristoff.”

Kang turns to him, inclining his head slightly – “Well met, Kristoff Von Doom.”

He stands in the doorway because although his father has waved him in he isn’t really sure what he’s supposed to do with Kang the Conqueror standing _right there_. It’s not like he hasn’t run into plenty of villains in the Castle before – but they were ones that he knew his father had a decent rapport with; Loki, Namor, Magneto. This is someone he’s never met – never even heard his father mention, really. “Uh… you too… I guess.”

“Kristoff,” Victor stands up, waving him over to him and Kristoff awkwardly goes to stand by him.

His father turns to Kang, “It is fortunate that my son has joined us today – I have been meaning to tell you that I have found the missing link in our blood relation.”

Kristoff looks between the two, “You guys are related?” He supposes the colour scheme and ridiculous armour should have given it away, but he’s surprised nonetheless. As far as he knows, Kristofer is Victor’s only blood relation – surely Victor would have mentioned something before if he had another relative out there… _especially_ if it was another villain.

Neither Kang nor his father answers him, however – instead Kang turns to his father in surprise, “Your son? I do not follow.”

“Kristoff is my son and heir – though admittedly we are lacking in genetic inheritance.”

He means of course that Kristoff is adopted – his father is incapable of saying things like a normal person.

Kang squints at him as if he will be able to see something that isn’t visible, “And his genetic donors?”

_Where is this conversation going? It cannot be going where I think it is. It can’t. I just came here to tell father about an idea. He doesn’t know about Nathaniel. He can’t._

“I believe you are familiar with the time-traveller Nathaniel Richards?”

_Oh._

_This is a nightmare. I just need to wake up. I’ve had this nightmare a million or so times before. I just need to wake up. I just need to wake up. I just need to wake up._

Kang glances at him again, “I think perhaps your son was not aware of this – he has gone shockingly pale.”

Victor glances at him too, touching him gently on the back of his neck – Kristoff realises only now that his father isn’t wearing most of his armour. “Sit down, _čhaavo_.” He murmurs into his hair.

Numbly, he walks to a seat and sits down. He feels like he’s in a trance – it feels sort of nice, being disconnected like this. His heart is trying to escape his chest; throwing itself at his ribs. _I think I may have just received a death sentence – is this how people on death row feel, when they know they will be killed the next morning?_

“And he knew,” Victor says to Kang, “I was the one unaware – that is why I am only telling you now. Nathaniel, of course, is the father of Reed Richards… _and_ Kristoff – I assume this is where the confusion you have over your relation to _me_ comes from. It occurs to me that you never stated it was Victor Von Doom you were related to – that reasonably you assumed that Doctor Doom and I were one in the same – but Kristoff is my heir; he will inherit everything of mine, including my name.”

Dazed, he wonders why Victor is referring to him in the present tense: _will_ inherit, _is_ my heir – surely it should be _would have_ inherited and _was_ my heir? Kang is nodding as if this makes perfect sense to him, but how can it? Kristoff has imagined this scenario with every one of his father’s possible reactions, and what is occurring in front of his eyes right now does not match up with any of them. Granted, Kang is an unexpected variable but even so…

“If your son was already aware of his heritage, then he certainly was not aware that you too were informed,” Kang says, amused, “Perhaps you should work on your communication skills, Victor.”

He thinks perhaps it is Kang’s amusement that pushes him straight over the edge – how can this man find it _funny_. This is Kristoff’s whole _life_ at stake. His _family_.

A raw and visceral anger invades his body, flowing through his bloodstream and scorching his bones. He can’t contain it. _My powers. I need to control my powers. They could hurt someone. I can’t lose control._

Except he can _feel_ himself losing control.

“Master.” He tries to warn Victor. The word sticks in his throat slightly because he wants to cry out _dad_ but he’s not sure that Victor would react well to that now.

Victor turns to him, and a confusion enters his eyes followed quickly by recognition. He throws up an arm and a barrier of energy flies up too, separating himself and Kang from Kristoff.

Vaguely he feels relieved at that, but that feeling is overshadowed by the sudden wall of heat and flame that _explodes_ from his body. 

Victor and Kang both looked shocked, though they are still protected. He is unsure what Victor is shocked about, because he already knew about Kristoff’s powers.

Then he looks down at himself and understands.

His whole body is engulfed in flame.

Kristoff laughs – he is sure that it comes out slightly hysterical. _Can I not be anymore linked to the Fantastic Four_ , he thinks desperately, _first I am related to them by blood, and now this similarity in powers with the Human Torch_? _I must be cursed._

He looks around the study and grimaces – Victor may have protected himself and Kang but there wasn’t really anytime to protect anything else. The room looks like someone has detonated a bomb inside it, which is as good as an analogy as any, really.

The windowpanes have been completely blown outwards and the curtains hang in tattered remains, blackened and scorched. Everything else is just destroyed. The desk lies in a heap of burnt wood, though a lot of it is also scattered around messily where it used to stand. Whatever occupied the desk has been destroyed completely – _God I hope Victor wasn’t keeping anything important there_.

Victor’s study is usually kept quite dark – the only light really coming from candles because that’s how he likes to keep it. The only light now comes from Kristoff. He watches shadows flicker against the walls of the study; somehow miraculously intact.

He tries to will the flames to dampen.

Nothing happens.

A sort of panic grips him then because _what if they won’t go_? _What if I am stuck like this forever_? _I’d hardly be the first mutant to be stuck with a power that won’t turn off._

The more he panics, the brighter the flames covering his body go – the higher they leap, until they are tickling the ceiling. The hotter the room turns. Anything in his vicinity that wasn’t destroyed in the original blast follows suit – either catching fire or melting. He feels like he is in one of Salvador Dalí’s paintings – The Persistence of Memory, perhaps; it’s hanging in Victor’s art gallery in the Castle and he’s seen it half a million times. Victor is particularly fond of it – he’s lucky he kept it in the art gallery and didn’t hang it in his study otherwise it would be ash right now.

Victor starts to move towards him, his forcefield holding even as he moves closer.

“Kristoff!” he says loudly, and he looks up at Victor who is still moving closer.

He moves to speak, but Victor beats him to it:

“ _Sleep._ ”

His vision goes black.

* * *

When he comes to, he is in his bedroom in the Castle. Victor sits in a chair that has been dragged to the side of his bed.

As soon as Kristoff sees him, he bursts into tears:

“I’m sorry–” he sobs, tears streaming down his face, “–I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Kristoff!” Victor stands up, alarmed. “What is wrong? Are you hurt?”

He looks at the man in confusion, “Why am I still here? Why haven’t you got rid of me?”

Victor looks slightly horrified – _~~where’s his mask~~_ – and looks down at him, “You are not making any sense.” His voice comes out confused and angry because Victor Von Doom is a man not used to understanding things.

Kristoff thinks that Victor is the one not making any sense. He’s supposed to be angry – supposed to be shouting and smashing things and cursing Kristoff’s existence and that of his father. “Why aren’t you angry… you were supposed to be angry… I’m sorry…”

“Kristoff…” Victor looks truly alarmed – scared, almost.

Frantically, Kristoff adds, “I’m loyal to you! I promise – I swear! I have never betrayed your trust – I would never!” He feels like he is begging for his life.

Victor is looking at him like he doesn’t recognise him which makes everything a million times worse, “Kristoff – please – I never doubted otherwise but I need you to tell me what is wrong.”

“Perhaps–” a voice says from the back of the room, “–he is worried that you may resent him for his heritage – he is the half-brother of your greatest enemy, after all.”

The voice comes from Kang – he realises – who is standing in the shadows. How is this random man – a man who calls himself Conqueror, no less – so much more perceptive than the man who raised him.

Victor startles as if that idea had never crossed his mind. Perhaps it hadn’t – perhaps he had only thought of solving this mystery of Doom’s relation to Kang the Conqueror and is only now realising the real implications of Kristoff’s heritage.

_Any moment now_ , he thinks, _he will realise I am cursed and be rid of me_.

“People cannot help the misfortune of their birth,” Victor says in a confused tone, addressed to Kang, “The sins of the father are _not_ the sins of the child.”

Kang is amused, “Perhaps this is something you should be telling your son.”

“Nathaniel’s son,” Kristoff murmurs because he needs to drive that part home at this point, he is starting to suspect Victor has forgotten already as he has not mentioned it.

Victor turns on him angrily, “ _My_ son! You think that Nathaniel Richards means _anything_ to me? He clearly has no interest in being your father – and if he _did_ , I would simply kill him – _I_ am your father. _I_ raised you. _I_ taught you about this world and I would slaughter anyone who thought otherwise!”

_Can it truly be that he does not care? That he does not hate me?_

He doesn’t know how to reply because he is so _confused_ , so he says, “Where did Kang go?”

Victor turns around to see what he means – and yes, Kang has disappeared without a trace. “Back to whatever time period he came from,” he says to Kristoff, “He does this every now and then – he doesn’t choose to visit, he is forced here by some power or another. I thought it to be quantum entanglement – that he had damaged his chromosomes from travelling so much in time and that is why he kept coming back to me, but I see now that we do not truly share any genes so perhaps it is our home he is tied to – or my armour. Whatever future he is from, it is one where you continue my legacy, evidently.”

“Oh,” he says, thinking he understands, “Is that why you are not angry? Because you already know the future and know that I will not betray you?”

Victor looks very tired all of a sudden, “Kristoff… the future is not set in stone – you know this. But whatever the future holds, I know you will not betray me – to tell you the truth I do not even understand what you mean by that. This talk of betrayal is fit for people who are allies or something of the like… not for a son talking to his father. If you chose to join the Avengers tomorrow, you would still be my son. You are _mine_. You could choose to join the Fantastic Four and you would still be _mine_ – could chose to live elsewhere, to forsake my name and my legacy and you would still be _mine_. You think your blood means anything to me – that your biological father means anything to me? If he walked into this room right now, I would cut him down where he stands, because he knew you were his son and he did not want you. If he ever dared to come into your life again and claim you, I would slaughter him.”

To anyone normal, Victor would sound like a psychopath – but he is Kristoff Von Doom and he knows that this is an expression of love. Shakily, he says, “I don’t think Reed would forgive you if you murdered his dad.”

“That means nothing to me.”

Except it _does_ , because whether Victor will admit it or not, he is sort of in love with Reed Richards. Obsessed, in love – to Victor these are one in the same.

Perhaps his father realises what river his thoughts flow through, because he chides, “No one comes before my children, Kristoff.”

_Yes, I am starting to realise that._

Victor reaches out and brushes a hand through his hair, “You should go back to sleep – your powers have exhausted you; I can tell.”

He hums in agreement, relishing his father’s touch because he can probably count the amount of times Victor has touched him skin to skin on one hand. He closes his eyes, feeling himself drift off already – he suspects his father may be using some spell or another to tire him out.

Kristoff is almost out cold when Victor asks, “What did you mean to tell me? Earlier – when you entered my study?”

“Oh,” he murmurs sleepily, trying to remember, “I remembered that Quicksilver is a father too – he has a daughter… Val’s age? Luna. She’s not a mutant but she has powers…”

“And?”

The information is slipping through his memory, but he grasps it as tight as he can, “And she needs a school equipped to deal with superhuman students – she was attending the Braddock Academy, in Britain – but the Braddocks are closing it down now…”

“Ah,” his father says, understanding what he is trying to say, “Yes… I see where you are coming from. Well done. Go to sleep now, hmm? I will sort everything out.”

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't mention it btw but the reason Victor found out about Nathaniel is cos Kristoff was talking about it w/ Valeria & Franklin on Doom Island and Victor had a camera there cos in the comic he is able to hear and watch Val & Franklin talk. 
> 
> Also I'll probs be writing a sequel hopefully, and it will feature Luna so I am very excited!! 
> 
> Translations from ROMLEX:   
> pral - brother  
> unoko - grandson   
> dad - father  
> phuro dad - grandfather


End file.
